I Had Everything
by Brighteyes of Thunderclan
Summary: Strong branches fall; little did I know I was the storm.


_I had everything:_ parents whose pride in me shone as brilliantly as the stars, toms who followed my every move as if I were Starclan sent, a mate who doted upon me like a twoleg would a beloved kittypet, a sister whose loyalty was like the branches of the Great Oaks. She was always tested in the winds of the greatest storms, but never broken. I would soon learn that even the strongest branches fall. My future was bright; I had my whole life ahead of me. _I had everything._ He tore it all away.

It was a dark, stormy day. Riverclan had been active along the border for quite some time; Darkclaw was suffering as his infected wounds pounded him with fever and pain. Bouncestrike led our patrol along the Riverclan border, and their stench was stronger than usual. I could hardly see anything through the pouring rain. Thunder crashed over our heads and it seemed as if Starclan were crying. I thought nothing of it. Instead, I thought of the wriggle I felt in my belly that morning. Timbermask and I had been trying again. I'm sure as Starclan that wriggle was a kit. It would never see the light, just like the others.

As we paused to inspect the scent line, they attacked. I couldn't see, but fought on, using the glowing white of my sister's pelt as the only light in the midst of battle. _He_ was tall and strong, too burly and ferocious for a Riverclan warrior. His dark ginger tabby pelt came out of nowhere, his blue eyes blazing. He unsheathed his claws before I even had time to think about mine. Every battle move I had ever learned flew from my head. In training, they never prepared you for this. They never prepared you for death. They prepared you for victory. His ivory claws shone in the darkness, and soared toward me. Like a kit in the talons of an eagle, I was helpless. Closing my eyes, I didn't even have time to brace for impact. The last thought I had before I began to bleed to death was of my mate, and his emerald eyes. Of the kits I was hoping to carry. How we would never once lie together in the nursery, sleepy in the warm, dark, cozy den and name them. I had always wanted a daughter.

And then I felt it. Falling to the ground, I gasped for breath, my life's blood out on the grass in front of me. My stomach-it felt as if a thousand Tigerclan warriors were fighting to escape it, the fiery pain blinding me. They slashed and tore and ripped my skin apart, fraying the edges like a split blade of grass. They bit at my insides, and then set everything aflame. The world around me was white, like a lightning flash. I heard Whitefang shriek, I heard _him_ gasp with horror at what he had done, and I felt the ground pounding of his footsteps as Riverclan fled.

"Swanmist!" She cried out into the darkness, her words worried and searching. The dirt shook and shuddered beneath me as her paws thundered across the battlefield. I felt a soft pelt against mine, and warm salty tears as they fell upon my face. My sister's golden eyes broke through the blank haze, and I heard my voice rasp,

"It-it hurts…so much. Help me, Whitefang. Save me again…Oh, Whitefang," I coughed up blood, the red spurting from between my lips and trickling down my chin. Her face was blurry, in and out of focus, but I desperately tried to hold her gaze. If anything could anchor me to this world, it would be her: my sister, my wonderful sister.

"Stay with me, Swanmist. Don't leave. Don't leave me! Swanmist!" She wailed, golden eyes welling up with tears. Her fluffy white warmth surrounded me, my head pressed against her chest. Her fur was tangled and matted with blood, some hers and some theirs, but now it was flooded with mine. Kin, the same blood ran through our veins. What was hers was mine, and mine was hers. We both felt our lives drain onto the tattered, rain-soaked grass. All I could hear was the steady pounding of her beating heart, knowing mine would stop soon. It was almost too much to bear, knowing I'd never see her-or any of them- again. Not in this lifetime.

"Don't leave me Swanmist…" Whitefang sobbed. I'd never heard her this desperate: she choked on her words, and they tumbled off her tongue like rough pebbles of thought.

But I left her. _He_ made me. _He_ had done this.

 _I had everything._

"Avenge me," I whispered, voice hoarse, as if I had gargled with broken glass. It cracked at the end.

"I will, I promise…. I promise…" Her voice faded, as broken as my heart. My eyes glazed over and all my senses disappeared. It was a strange feeling, drifting apart from my own flesh and blood. As my spirit rose, I could feel only one thing. Blazing hot fury. It consumed me: its burning hatred setting my pelt aflame. The smoldering embers of rage set deep inside me, fueling my fire. I went to Starclan, but my only thought was of _him_. His name floated through my mind, and before it exploded into shattered fragments, I had it. I knew him. I hated him. I was fury and fury was me. And _he_ was my target. _Falconshade_. I sat in Starclan, refusing to speak to anyone. Not Brightkit, or Whisperkit, or Goldenmoon. Even Fallensnow knew to leave well enough alone. I only watched.

I watched as my family grieved. My mother's tears soaking my dull, lifeless fur. My father's sitting all night in solitude. My sister's golden eyes filled with salty tears, her shoulders slumped with defeat. My mate, screaming my name to the stars, as if to call me down to be with him once again. All I felt in the dark pits of my heart, the deepest depths, was fiery pain. Their mourning seemed to split my soul, remind me of all I had and could have been. But it was all over now. Or so they thought.

I watched as my mate fell for my sister. Slowly, slowly, he grew closer to her. It all started when they trained those two apprentices together…how I had wanted an apprentice! He watched Whitefang everyday, her every move. I noted this closeness, and it tore at my very existence. How could he forget so easily all we'd shared? How could he push my memory aside like an apprentice does the mossball they've outgrown? I was not something to be discarded, to be thrown away. He'd told me I was special. They'd all told me I was special, and now here they were. My mother grew to care for Whitefang even more than she had cared for me. My father, who had drifted away from mother, became close to her again. Death brings cats together. It also tore my heart apart. My mate tried to win Whitefang over. He forgot about me. But I couldn't hate my sister; Whitefang had had nothing. She _deserved_ this. I forced myself to believe it. But despite it all, despite whatever I told myself, I knew that I had been special. I had been something, someone, who mattered. _I had everything._

I watched as Whitefang rejected Timbermask, denying his affection over and over. I felt the darkness in my heart ease at her efforts. My dear, sweet, loyal sister; she tried desperately to avenge my murder. She chased _him_ down, thinking of nothing but revenge. This was my dream as well. Six moons she spent on the hunt, the chase wild and invigorating, as much for her as it was for me. I was not forgotten; in her eyes, I was still very much alive.

I watched as she caught him that night, at the gathering. She lured him away into the darkness, and I waited for her to strike. Her paw raised, her teeth bared in a snarl I'd seen so many times, I waited. But she didn't. _He_ had stopped her, when her paw was raised for the killing blow. _He_ had been watching her, just as she had him. I nearly died again when she fell in love, not with Timbermask, but instead with _him_.

His smooth words won her over, his pretty face and sparkling eyes, his gentle tone and bright spirit. Everything I'd come to despise set her heart on fire, a passion that consumed every single waking moment. Even in her dreams, I was set aside. He'd taken my life, just as he'd taken over hers.

I watched as she birthed _his_ kits, the three perfect bundles that I should have had. That I should've lived long enough to give to Timbermask. They were precious, and they were _his_. I hated them. Wolfkit, Hazelkit, and Blossomkit. So small, so innocent, and as good as dead to me. The little white tom had his eyes, the brown tabby had his heart, and she his pelt. I hated them.

I watched as Whitefang and Timbermask led the Clan to believe they were the children of the light tabby warrior. I watched his emerald eyes glow and gleam with pride and love whenever he entered the nursery. He doted on those kits almost more than he did Whitefang. His "family" was his life's joy. I sulked and marinated in my own hurt. The injustice of it all!

I watched as my parents fawned over them. The kits prancing about camp, Stonetail and Paledove playing with them more than they ever did with their own daughters. As my mother's eyes lit with light and love I had never seen before, I burned.

I watched as guilt tore Whitefang apart.

I watched as she died.

I laughed.

Because she had had everything.

I waited. I waited and waited. And I plotted _his_ demise.

I waited for my sister to rise into our ranks, and I greeted her with a loving purr. What a wonderful liar I am! Whitefang spent her days watching them, as did I. She lolled for hours, gazing at _him_. I did as well, in my dark corner of the starry sanctuary. My prison: a hell in what was supposed to be everlasting heaven.

I waited for when _he_ came and claimed his kits after learning that Whitefang had drowned herself; how it hurt him to see her use everything he'd ever stood for as a weapon against everything he'd ever loved. He never got to see her body lying in camp, her fur sodden and her heavy tail trailing furrows in the dirt. Her eyes closed. The remnants of her watery grave pooled around her, a coward's way out, the word "suicide" echoing about camp with every dusty droplet. The kittens were confused, scared too. I loved it. Timbermask was distraught, attacking _him_ when he tried to take them away. I reveled in it. Stonetail held him back, a snarling ball of pale tabby fur, as Hollowstar reluctantly relinquished custody of the three little darlings to _him._ Paledove threw herself at the ground, as if trying to bury herself with my sister. After he'd gone, my mother was distressed; she cried herself to sleep at night for three moons, longer than she had wept for _me_. She had lost the last part of her last daughter she had left. And I couldn't care less.

I waited for a time when the kits were old enough to get into trouble. What better way to hurt _him_ than to have his precious children die, one by one? I couldn't be happier when the fox was there. Waiting, like me. Whitefang wailed as she watched her children venture into the den. It was to my dismay that Riverclan actually _cared_ about the little bastards. Enough to send the patrol. Goody-goody Tansyfoot would never let her _dear_ cousins _die_. Of course not.

I waited for another chance to strike. I got impatient quickly, though, and it led to sloppiness. She found me.

She found me pacing the grounds with my starry fur, eyes wild, coaxing her precious babies out into the world. Her eyes widened when she saw me, white pelt glowing, golden eyes bright, looking preserved and lovely in all of her Starclan-lit grandeur. I had wasted a way, a shell of my former self, with matted fur that no longer sparkled and gleamed, eyes dull and bright at the same time, my heart and mind twisted. The kittens had seen us, appearing on the halfbridge. They basked in the glow of their mother and watched me in fear.

She lunged; I struck.

The kittens fled.

How I wished then, that we weren't dead,

And I wouldn't be so far gone.

And she wouldn't have done what she'd done.

Lost in my ways,

I'd strayed, I'd strayed,

From the sister she'd known and loved, she said.

I'd wished we weren't dead.

She pinned me and I cried with pain,

She told me I still had time to change,

I lept to my paws and lunged at her,

Her ivory claws pierced my fur.

Fury. My fury. My fury led to this.

Anger is why my stomach is gaping open,

staining the grounds of Starclan a deep, dark, ugly crimson.

My hatred is why I'm dying.

I'm dying again,

not at _his_ paws, but at another's.

Strong branches fall.

The kittens will play,

my parents will cry,

and she will only wonder why

it had to end this way.

This time, _she_ tore it all away.

 _I have nothing._

 **Fact of the day: I actually wrote this piece before I'd even decided on character names for Promise. I didn't even think I would write the whole story.**


End file.
